


Don't Want to Lose You

by freedomandbravery



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Little Fluff, M/M, Self Harm, Smut, just a little, just a lot of angst, suicides, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-24
Updated: 2013-08-24
Packaged: 2017-12-24 13:17:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/940432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freedomandbravery/pseuds/freedomandbravery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Have you ever gotten that pang of hurt, that excruciating pain going through your entire body? Around 800 000 to one million people feel this pain each year. It could be the same people with rotten luck or it could be different individuals every year. </i><br/> </p>
<p>  <i>Louis was 8 years old when he first felt this unbearable pain.<i></i></i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Want to Lose You

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know what this is.  
> But **Trigger Warning, ******please be careful when reading this.
> 
>  
> 
> **Disclaimer:**  
>  I don't own any of the people mentioned in this piece of _fictional_ work, any names, characteristics are down to pure chance. I do not make any money on this work.

Have you ever gotten that pang of hurt, that excruciating pain going through your entire body? Around 800 000 to one million people feel this pain each year. It could be the same people with rotten luck or it could be different individuals every year.  
Doctors of people who’ve been so worried about this paralyzing pain have no clue what it could be, a heart attack, a tumour, some unknown virus that displays itself by making a person’s nerve endings tingle in the entirely wrong way. Whatever they might think it is they never find the logical source, the scientific source. They send away their scared and worried patients with a reassuring pat on their backs, an easy smile and a promise that the patient can call if they ever feel this pain again.  
Other more life experienced people have an entirely different explanation, an explanation so gruesome that if the people enduring this pain knew it they would take the same way out as the person who made them feel this way, or they would be depressed for the entirety of the life that they still have in their belonging. As people says, time heal all wounds, maybe not entirely but to an extent.

Louis was 8 years old when he first felt this unbearable pain. He had just gotten home, his loving mother picking him up from school, at the time he had been playing peak-a-boo with Lottie. The 1 year old squealing with happiness every time he pulled his hands from in front of his face.

It had started slowly just a weird tingling in his wrists, he didn’t question it at first, he had experienced the same feeling before. Sometimes on the insides of his thighs and sometimes on his tummy, but mostly it was on his wrists. It was like an itch that you just couldn’t scratch no matter how bad you wanted to; whenever he tried it wouldn’t stop itching, unless he scratched hard enough for it draw blood.

– The first time Jay had seen the marks she’d gone mental, he was only 8 for God’s sake. She’d asked him a bunch of weird questions, whether he was happy at home, in school, if someone was mean to him. She didn’t believe him when he told her that it was just itching. She took him to all these different people in suits, sitting in rooms with ducks on their walls and stuffed animals sitting on the couch. They asked him to draw his feelings on a piece of paper. They asked him similar questions as Jay had and he’d answered them exactly the same. They didn’t understand; he was a happy young boy. Next Jay took him to the doctors to see if he was maybe allergic to something, the washing detergent they used at home maybe. But nothing was wrong; he was a healthy as well as happy. With no ways left to get a logical explanation Jay regularly cut her son’s fingernails short. –

But this time it was different, the itching usually stopped after a little while, not this time though. It spread and it got worse somehow. The uncomfortable itch spread to his tummy and his thighs and that had never happened before. Tears started to fill the young boy’s eyes, it was starting to actually hurt, and it was spreading even more, pain running through his body like current would to a criminal being electrocuted.

Jay no longer hearing her children’s happy laughs walked to the living room to check up on them, not really prepared for the scene unfolding there. Lottie was still sitting in her bouncer looking down at her big brother with huge worried eyes. But Louis was on the floor, lying stretched out on the carpet, his breathing heavy as if it was hurting him to get the air into his lungs. Tears were running from his eyes into his sweaty hair and bleeding into the carpet. The mother was on her knees beside him in an instant calling out his name at the same time she was fighting to get her mobile out of her pocket.

But Louis was far away, pain rolling over his body in waves, his arms and legs too heavy to move. Every breath hurting, he was paralyzed, his heart was booming desperately inside his chest, working to get blood to his brain so that he wouldn’t faint. He could hear the blood rush in his ears over his mother’s frantic shouting. His eyes had stopped working he couldn’t blink or look to the side; they were fixated on the cream coloured ceiling.

Louis didn’t notice when Jay was shaking his body frantically, he didn’t notice the ambulance pulling up on their front yard. He didn’t notice when they placed him on a gurney and put an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose to help him breathe easier. He was still far away when they put his fragile body through diverse tests, checking up on his vitals, performing an MRI scan, exposing him for different types of radiation. They performed all tests they could think of, but the results were blank except for high brain activity which the doctors couldn’t explain in any other way than that the boy was experiencing extreme pain. They had only seen the same sort of brain activity within people seconds from death but seeing that the boy could still breathe and his heart was still beating regularly that couldn’t be it.

They were baffled, but since the young boy still hadn’t exited the state he was in they spoke with the shocked mother and stepfather before they put him under a medically induced coma with their blessings. Promising them that their son would wake up in a couple of days, they just wanted to prevent possible brain damage. The mother and father both cried as their held their little daughter and watched as nurses pumped her brother’s body full of drugs.

When Louis later woke up he had no idea where he was, there was a loud regular beeping, which was really annoying. His limbs felt heavy and when he tried opening his eyes he found it especially difficult. He could hear though, he could make out his mother’s warm voice if not a bit wobbly, but it was still familiar and home. He tried speaking but his mouth was so dry and throat scratchy. Above all he felt an ache deep in his bones, it was exhausting, he was exhausted. So he let the Sandman take him back to the land of dreams where he felt safe with the young boy with the green eyes.

The next time Louis woke up it was darker in the room, he noticed that he could actually move this time and his mind felt a lot clearer, though he could still feel that same deep ache lingering in his core. Sitting up on the bed was a feat in itself but he managed and soon there were warm hands helping him to a more comfortable position. Opening his eyes he saw Mark’s fond but worried brown ones looking down at him. The man’s forehead creased with undivided concentration, Louis hated that look on Mark and he especially hated that he was the one who put it there. Mark’s face was made for smiling, that’s what his mum always said anyways and Louis believed her.

The first thing that came out of Louis’ mouth was the word ‘water’ and instantly there was a glass of the cool liquid in his petite hands. After drinking the entire glass, coughing and sputtering a little he looked out over the room. He saw Jay sitting in a hard plastic chair, sleeping, with his little sister snoozing in their mother’s arms. Even in her sleep Jay had a look of worry etched on her face and it made Louis feel even worse so he looked away. The room was small, painted white and it had a single window with blue curtains. Mark leaned back in his chair and sighed deeply.

“How are you feeling?” He asked the boy lowly, careful not to wake his wife and daughter, even though Jay had threatened him that if he didn’t wake her up as soon as Louis made any progress, he would sleep on the couch for the rest of the week. But her husband saw that she needed the sleep, it had been a hectic couple of days.

“I’m alright, sleepy” The 8 year old replied, voice cracking on the last word from misuse. “What happened?” He questioned after a heavy pause.

Mark’s forehead furrowed with wrinkles as he looked in disbelief down on the boy he considered his son. He’d been hoping that Louis would have any answers, only realizing now that that wasn’t an especially realistic thing to hope for. “Your mother found you on the living room floor, unable to move, you were crying and you didn’t respond. The doctors had no idea what happened to you, but they felt that it would be safest to put you in a coma for a little while because your brain activity were so high and they feared brain damage.” Louis didn’t really understand that last part, which Mark later understood as he added “You’ve been sleeping for a day and a half.”

Taking Louis’ hand in his he smiled carefully, fear shining through. “I’m going to get the doctors and tell them that you’ve woken up, alright love?” Giving Mark a nod the man rose from the chair beside his bed and walked out through the door. Leaving Louis to think about what happened; all he can remember is the raw pain coursing through him. He came to the conclusion that he never wanted to feel that terrible pain ever again.

They left the hospital two days later, doctors reassuring the shook up family that nothing was wrong with the boy, but that they could come back if something similar happened again in the near future. Jay had noticed though, something was different with her son. When he looked up at her as she helped him out of their car she saw what was different, his eyes was darker. They weren’t shining blue anymore; they had a duller colour now. Shaking off the uneasy feeling that had washed over her she decided to blame the light and in her hurry to get life back to normal she overstepped the paper with the article about the 13 year old boy who’d taken his life by pills because he was bullied in school for being gay, their hurtful words portrayed on his wrists, stomach and thighs.

 

***

 

The second time that pang of hurt entered Louis’ body he was 15 years old and was playing football with his classmates. It wasn’t like the time when he was 8, the pain was the same but it introduced itself in a different way. For the last year Louis had been feeling a dull ache around his heart, it was as if darkness was surrounding it. He hadn’t paid it much thought, ignoring it in favour for it to go away. It never did though it was still the same only that it got worse at night when he was to sleep. It had made him cry for no reason other than the fact that it felt good when he cried. Dark thoughts trying to put themselves to rest inside his skull, but he always pushed them away the best he could.

Now though the pain was growing, much like the last time. He didn’t understand it better now. Sitting down on the pitch he put his head between his knees and breathed deeply. He was scared, so scared. The last time this happened he’d ended up in the hospital and he’d been put in coma. He didn’t want that to happen again.

His friends were shouting at him to get up and continue with the game, they didn’t know he was hurting. They thought that he was just joking; he was the joker of their group always striving to put a smile on someone’s face, so why would they even consider that he wasn’t just joking now.

The pain though was the only thing he could focus on, clutching at his shirt above his heart willing it all to just stop. Just for a while so that he could catch his voice. He was sure that he was going to throw up, his body was shaking and this time it felt a lot worse. The pain and the hurt was a lot worse, but he couldn’t let it grasp him entirely like it had all those years ago.

Stan, his best friend, finally understanding that his best friend was in real pain snapped into action and pushed himself to run faster to get to Louis. The closer he got to Louis the better he cloud hear his pained whimpers. He recognised the state Louis was in, his sister had been in it once before and his mother had told him what had happened to her. How she had lost someone very important. Getting on his knees next to the shaking curled up form that was Louis he threw his arms around him and whispered reassurances into his best friend’s ear.

“I think I’m going to be sick.” Louis forced out through clenched teeth, steeling his body for the next wave of pain. It felt as if someone was breaking his bones one by one and it hurt like fuck. Louis screwed his eyes shut to stop the tears from escaping his eyes. He didn’t want to go through this again. There must be something seriously wrong with him.

Stan once again snapped into action and pulled Louis up so that he was sort of standing. “Come on, we can’t sit here, let’s get to the locker room. Slowly they made their way to the men’s locker room, Louis gasping and crying out once in a while. When the other boys came and wondered what was happening Stan told them to back off and give Louis some space.

Louis’ vision was swimming in front of him, tears blurring it even more. There was a wave such immense agony washing over him that his knees almost buckled under the weight of it. His stomach was churning and he could feel the bile rising in his throat. Pushing Stan away Louis emptied the contents of his stomach in the bushes next to the door of the changing room. The bile was burning in his throat and unwanted tears slipped down his cheeks. Louis was sure that he was going to die like this; in school with Stan as company after he’d puked his guts out.

Stan helped him into the locker room’s toilet after he was done retching and put on the faucet. Cupping his hands Louis caught the water and rinsed his mouth before he drank any of it. The water was soothing to his raw throat.

“You good?” Stan asked and Louis wanted to laugh, of course he wasn’t alright. Even though the pain was fading now it still hurt like a bitch and if Louis didn’t have more strain on himself he would cry into his phones mouthpiece to his mother right about now. Begging her to come and pick him up.

Wiping his mouth Louis coughed, “Yeah, I’m good.” He looked up, his worn out reflection staring back at him in the mirror with stony grey eyes. Louis blinked and rubbed at his eyes because that couldn’t be right. His eyes were blue. When he opened his eyes again they were a dull blue, he shook his head, at least they weren’t grey anymore.

“So do you know what just happened to you, mate?”

“No fucking idea actually, it’s happened once before, when I was like 8.” He admitted, Stan’s expression changed from worry to pity. Ignoring it Louis continued. “But it was a lot worse at that time, I, um was sent to hospital and they put me in a coma. Or something.” His cheeks were flaming with embarrassment. He didn’t exactly want his friends to know that, they might think of him as weak. But not Stan, he trusted Stan.

“Do you believe in like soul mates and true love, Louis?” Stan asked, he was now sitting down on the toilet lid and Louis had slumped down on the filthy floor against the door.

“What kind of question even is that?” Louis asked exasperated, Stan only raised a prompting eyebrow in reply. “I guess.” Louis sighed. “But I don’t see how that has anything to do with what just happened.”

“It has everything to do with what just happened.” Stan exclaimed. “Don’t you see?” The ache had almost faded away completely by now; it was just a low pressuring darkness around his heart. Nothing that he couldn’t deal with, but he also had that strange feeling that he had lost something. He couldn’t for the love of God think of what that could be, but it did worry him a little. He just wanted to go home to his bed and his lovely younger sisters and mother, not get weird questions by Stan.

“Remember when my sister fell ill and all she did was screaming and crying, like two years ago. Remember how I told you about how we took her to the doctors and they couldn’t find anything wrong with her?” Stan paused, waiting for Louis’ memory to catch up with him. When comprehension bloomed over Louis’ face he continued. “Mum told me that it was because she lost someone, someone very important to her. And that’s exactly what’s happened to you.” Stan whispered; face matching the pity in his voice. “When someone ends their own life, they abruptly cut of the course of their life but also their link someone else’s. They will never meet person they were meant to spend the rest of their life with. This, what you just experienced, is what happens to that other person.” Stan’s eyes were filled to the brim with tears. He felt so bad for Louis, his best friend who’s had to experience this kind of thing not only once, but two times. “I’m so sorry, Louis”

This time Louis did laugh. It wasn’t his usual happy laugh, this time it was bitter and humourless. “So you’re telling me that the person I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with just killed themselves.” His voice was wobbly and fresh tears had sprung to his eyes. “Well that’s just ace mate, really funny.”

“I’m so sorry, Lou.”

“No, just- I think I better go home.” Standing up on shaky legs Louis wiped his eyes and went to collect his things, ignoring the nagging feeling in the back of his head that was telling him that Stan was right.

-

That same week a family was crying over their 14 year old little girl who had given up on life and had in bliss let her body fall from the high rooftop of the school she was tortured at. Her lithe body soaring through the air like a swallow flying freely. It didn’t last long though, her young form crashing to the grey pavement with a sick thud. As life was fading from her dulled grey eyes, a new song was heard in the distant, sung by her spirit spiralling through the air with the swallows.  
The man, a teacher, who found her in the morning, would have to go through years of therapy to get the picture of her young, broken and bloody body out of his mind, the girl’s stony grey eyes looking back at him with contempt whenever he closed his own. He was the one to put her there in the first place and he would live with that guilt until the day he died.

 

***

 

When Harry was 5 years old he saw his father hitting his mother for the first time. He didn’t understand what was happening at the time. But he knew that what his father did was wrong, he saw the fear in his mother’s eyes and he heard the desperation in her voice when she shouted at Harry to leave the room. He didn’t know better than to obey his mother, and really what would a 5 year old do against his big, frightening father.

When Harry was 15 the beating was a part of his day by now. His mother always told him not to get involved, she begged with him not to do anything stupid that would make her husband furious with his son. She did it to protect him, but even though he didn’t get physically harmed, every hand that his father laid on his mother was yet another scar in Harry’s mind.

He knew that violence shouldn’t be a normal part of a family’s everyday life. It wasn’t normal for the father of the family to hit his wife to show himself superior in front of his kids. But up until Harry was 9 he’d actually thought that every father hit the mother. But now he knows that is not the case and ever since he figured that out he’s hated his father. He hated himself for not being able to help his mum, he hated himself something fiercely. He probably hated himself more than he hated his disgusting father.

The one time Harry stood up for his mother, his father had gotten so mad, Harry didn’t recognise the man he had lived with his entire life. The man he’d once trusted was now beating him bloody. His mother was screaming at him to stop but the punches just kept being thrown. Harry should’ve been scared; he definitely shouldn’t enjoy the pain that was shaking his body. It was sick, but he figured that it was better that he was taking the punches. He almost felt smug. A smile bloomed over his face when he realised that he had won. A hysteric kind of laugh escaped his lips and his father faltered, bloodied fist in the air in the middle of a full swing. The punch landed on his mouth and he could feel the skin of his lips rupture against his front teeth, blood seeping into his mouth.  
That was the last hand his father ever laid on someone in his family. He left the same evening, with the sweet parting words that Anne’s son was seriously fucked up and that she should’ve gotten the abortion all those years ago when he advised her to.

Anne took her son to the emergency where they stitched up his lip, but there was nothing they could do to the bruising. Just apply ice to get the swelling to go down. Harry went to school with a black eye and bruises for two weeks. The pride of defending his mother soon being overshadowed by self-loathing, he had broken up his family. When his mother told Gemma that her father had moved out, Gemma was at uni at the time it happened, the girl cried for two days. She loved her father and looked up to him, because she had no idea what had happened when she was away. She didn’t know that he had hit her mother since she was 10. Harry knew that she blamed him, he could see it in her eyes every time their father was brought up and that was another thing that Harry just added to the pile of things that made him hate himself.

-

When Harry got into the University of Manchester he cried, this was going to be his second chance. By now he had filled his body with tattoos, all of them represented something that meant a lot to him. There were tattoos that represented his mother and sister, even one he’d gotten because of his father. But most of them represented how he wanted to be free, how he’d been caged all his life, but that he wanted to be free. He wanted to be able to fly, like the swallows he’d tattooed on his chest. He wanted to be able to visit places like LA and New York. He wanted to be able to fall in love and get butterflies in his tummy. So this, moving to Manchester would be the start of his new life. There they wouldn’t know about his family’s history, they wouldn’t know how fucked up he was. Most importantly they wouldn’t know just how much he hated himself and they wouldn’t stop him if he wanted to do something… drastic. At home it’s been like walking on eggshells, especially since his sister caught him throwing up after dinner. He had made her promise not to tell their mother, he managed to convince her that it was just something he’d eaten.

He bid an emotional farewell to his mother and sister before they jumped into the car and drove the short hour back home. He was feeling at least a little bit freer now and he would count that as a win. Settling into his dorm room in Manchester would take some time, but he would get comfortable gradually, his roommate Niall playing a big part in that. Niall was loud, Irish and always happy, had never experienced sadness Harry didn’t think. He was good for Harry, an expert of getting Harry’s mind out of dark places, but the best thing though was that Niall never asked questions. He was just there with a warm hug whenever he felt that Harry needed one, which happened quite often not that Harry complained. It was nice; he could hate himself in peace.

-

When Louis first met Harry the younger boy had come stumbling out of one of the booths in the toilets. Louis had been in there for quite a while so he had heard Harry being sick. As the nice person he was he worried for whoever it was in the booth clearly not feeling well.

“You alright, mate?” He asked the tall, gorgeous guy leaning against the door, evidently exhausted from puking but still wearing a smug smile. The boy’s stance turned rigid and the slight smile was formed into a frown.

“I’m good, thanks.” The boy replied coolly, not looking Louis in the eyes. But Louis had a feeling that that was just not the case. Something seemed off with the boy. His green eyes seemed guilty, but Louis had no idea why and he figured that I would be quite rude to just ask.

“Should I call for like the school nurse, or something?” He asked instead. But the boy shook his head, and continued to splash his face and rinse his mouth. Louis had no idea who this boy was or why he was so rude when Louis only wanted to help. But he was intrigued, he felt as if he belonged here, that he was meant to walk into this toilet and find this boy. “I’m Louis.” He tried.

“Harry.” Then the boy left and Louis felt as if the boy, Harry, had taken a piece of Louis with him.

-

The second time Louis met him; Harry was in a much better mood. Apparently he was housing with Niall who had invited him, Zayn and Liam over for pizza and fifa. Louis felt that pull again, that strange pull towards Harry. This time Harry was laughing and seemed happy, comfortable with him there even though he’d walked in on Harry being sick a few days ago. He wasn’t completely fine Louis suspected, when he caught one of Harry’s cautious glances towards him it just confirmed it, but it was alright, Harry seemed alright.

The five of them had a wonderful night, but something was strange with the way Harry was acting. And it wasn’t until all the others had fallen asleep, Harry’s bony hand laying displayed over Niall’s arm that he figured out what it was, Harry hadn’t eaten any of the pizza tonight. All the time he wasn’t eating he’d been watching Louis to see if he’d get a reaction. Louis decided that now was not the time to confront him about it, he didn’t know Harry well enough and he didn’t even know if he was right. He’ll just be extra watchful in the future.

-

As it turns out him and Harry becomes great friends, it didn’t take long. They just fit together like puzzle pieces. By now they do everything together, spending more time together than not. Louis can honestly say that he’s never been this happy and everything is perfect, until the day when he starts feeling that familiar pressing around his heart.

It had been years, Stan’s words still echoing in his mind, for two night’s he just cried. He couldn’t do other than cry. He knew what this meant and honestly he couldn’t go through this again. He locked himself into his room and only got out to eat, use the toilet and shower. He wasn’t strong enough to do this, he thought he was finally going to be happy. He had been planning to ask Harry out and tell him that he was in love him. He’d had those feelings for a while, and he’d been sure that Harry felt the same. But when that pressing came back he just broke down and had no idea what to do.

On the third day he hadn’t excited his dorm Harry came barging in, fury shining in his eyes. Louis could understand why he was mad. He hadn’t been out meeting Harry, he’d let all his calls go to voicemail and he had deleted all and every texts that had his phone buzzing. If Harry had done this to him he would’ve been equally furious. Like that time he’d confronted Harry about not eating, Harry had avoided Louis like plague for a week before he’d come breaking down Harry’s bedroom door to demand an explanation. The one he’d gotten nearly had him in tears. Harry had told him all about his childhood, about his father, all the blame and self-loathing, how he used hunger as a punishment. Harry cried as he thought that Louis wouldn’t want to be his friend after knowing this, but it only brought them closer.

They had promised not to avoid each other like that again, so he understood how mad Harry was too. But when Harry saw the state Louis was in his expression turned soft and worried. So instead of shouting that he was going to, he kicked off his worn out leather boots and slipped under the covers next to Louis. It didn’t take long for the older boy to start crying and for Harry to hold him.

Between sobs Louis told him what had happened when he was 8 and then again when he was 15. He told him what Stan had said to him in the toilet of the locker room. He told him all about the pain and fear. Harry just held him tighter trying to blink away the tears in his own eyes. He had seen this happen to one of the boys at his school before, so he did believe what Louis told him about soul mates and true loves having a special bond that broke if one of them took their life and changed the future that was supposed to happen. He held Louis even tighter and whispered reassuring words when the older boy told him that he was feeling that same pressing around his heart again and that he couldn’t go through it once more.

Harry kissed him then; it was something he’d thought about for a while, but not actually dared to do. His fingers were shaking nervously as he traced them over Louis’ cheekbones. Louis first sort of panicked, but then he understood what was happening and he kissed Harry back. He kissed him back with all he had, trying to put all of his emotions into that one kiss. He could feel Harry relax and smile into the kiss. Then the pressing around his heart, he realised wasn’t bad. He had been so sad these past couple of days to pause and really feel the pressure. His heart had been longing to tie the bond with Harry’s and make Harry his forever. With a last peck Harry pulled back and smiled down at him, glee shining in his eyes.

“I’m in love with you.” The words slipped his mouth before he himself realised they were on the tip of his tongue in the first place. His cheeks was flaming red, he couldn’t believe he just said that. He’s looking nervously down at his hands until Harry’s fingers under his chin are tilting his head up. Harry is positively beaming with happiness. “I’m in love with you too, darling.” He whispers and leans in again.

The kiss is deep and languid, slow strokes of their tongues that has both boy’s buzzing. Harry has moved so that he’s now straddling Louis’ waist, kicking down the covers to the foot of the bed. Louis has only ever dreamt about having Harry like this, and now that he’s got him he can’t believe it. Hands roaming under shirts which in a few seconds lay in a heap on the floor, giggled ‘love you’s’ pressed into naked skin. Louis feels warm and safe, more than he’s ever felt before and if the look in Harry’s face in anything to go by, the younger boy feels the same.

“D’you want-“ With a frantic nod Louis interrupts Harry with another kiss and starts to fumble with the button of Harry’s jeans, his nervousness making his hands tremble which makes unbuttoning a pair of jeans an extremely difficult task. Harry catches his hands in his own, “Breathe, love.” He says with a gentle smile and unbuttons his own jeans and slipping them down his legs and off, before going to make a quick job of Louis’ too.

The only thing keeping their growing erections apart is the thin layer of fabric of their pants. Harry grinds down on him and Louis can’t help the groan from escaping his mouth, Harry gives him a smirk in answer. He leans down to kiss Louis deeply whilst keeping up the steady rhythm of his hips against Louis’. “You’re so hot.” Louis breathes against Harry’s lips, no longer kissing; it’s more of open mouthed panting, sharing their heavy breaths.

The pants are too much though and Harry doesn’t protest when Louis pulls them down to free Harry’s erection he just gives him a guttural groan in response and gives Louis a look to do the same. Lifting his hips from the mattress Louis shimmies out of his pants and kick them away to the bottom of the bed. Harry grinds his hips down again and now there’s only naked skin rubbing together, no fabric in the way, and it feels absolutely fantastic. His nerve endings are buzzing in the best way possible now.

They both cry out in pleasure when Harry wraps one of his huge, spit slick hands around both of them and slowly starts to jerk them off. Louis pulls Harry down to kiss him filthily, knowing that they won’t last long, he won’t at least. He can feel Harry’s abs constricting and his moans are becoming louder. Harry eases them through their orgasms with slow soft strokes of his hand, until the point where Louis starts feeling almost too tender.

Tiredness and pure bliss is washing over him, Louis just lies there coming down from his high and trying to get his breathing regular again. Harry picks up his shirt from the floor and cleans them up before he pulls the covers over their tingling bodies. He looks down into Louis’ eyes, completely in awe of what he sees; Louis’ dark blue eyes are brightening more and more as the seconds tick by. “You’re so beautiful, I don’t ever want to lose you” Harry whispers against Louis’ lips and pulls his smaller body against his and they fall asleep like that. All spent, with love running through their bodies.

-

Louis no longer had to feel that excruciating pain ever again; he had finally found his soul mate. He was sad that two people had to die, two people that he could have had a wonderful future with. But he was happy that he finally found right, that he had found a home in Harry and that Harry and found a home in him. He was so lucky and his life couldn’t have been more perfect. He smiled down at their son Adrian sleeping in Harry’s arms, running his index finger down the bridge of Adrian’s button nose, careful not to rouse the resting baby. He caught Harry’s fond look so he leaned in to softly kiss his brilliant husband. He couldn’t be happier.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave me kudos and comments and I will love you forever!  
> [My tumblr](http://larrylovelife.tumblr.com)


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